I drove on, thinking hard as Chico went back to sleep, but the thought wouldn’t come back again, not all the way home.

‘We have to find a way of finishing this,’ I said to Chico as I turned into my driveway in Nutwell. ‘Marina is due back here on Friday and I don’t want her and Saskia mixed up in it.’

‘Well, how are we goin’ to do that?’

‘I think it may soon be time when I have to use the Red Telephone Hotline.’

We let Rosie out of the car first. She trotted happily over to the back door and seemed totally unconcerned about any possible unwanted visitors waiting in the bushes.

We had stopped briefly at a local Indian takeaway and I now carried our curries into the kitchen, placing the bag on the lid of the Aga hotplates to keep warm while I gave Rosie her supper.

‘I see,’ Chico said in mock complaint. ‘That’s not fair. Not only do I have to pick up her shit, but she also gets to eat her dinner before me.’

‘Trust me,’ I said, leaning down and stroking Rosie’s back as she munched away at her biscuits. ‘This dog probably saved my life last week, so if she wants to eat first, second, or even third, that’s fine by me.’

‘That’s only because you’re a bleedin’ softie,’ Chico said, laughing.

Was I a bleedin’ softie?

No, I bleedin’ wasn’t. Not when it came to Anton Valance. And it was high time I proved it.

I sat bolt upright in bed.

It was still pitch-black outside, but something had definitely woken me.

I touched the clock on my bedside table. It briefly lit up. Two fifteen.

I lay very still, in the dark, listening.

Nothing—nothing other than my pounding heart.

As silently as I could, I got up, put on my dressing gown, and went to my bedroom door, opening it very slowly.

‘Chico,’ I whispered over the banister into the hallway beneath. ‘Are you there?’

No reply.

I padded down the stairs in bare feet.

‘Chico,’ I whispered again.

I heard a chair move on the kitchen floor.

‘Sid, is that you?’ Chico said.

‘Yes. Something woke me.’

‘I’ve heard nothin’. I’ll go and check.’

I waited in the hallway while Chico went outside.

‘Nothin’ there,’ he said, coming back in through the kitchen door. ‘All quiet. Not a peep from Rosie either.’

‘Okay, thanks,’ I said. ‘It must have been a dream.’

I went back upstairs to my room feeling somewhat foolish, and climbed into bed. But I lay awake in the dark for some time, listening for any strange noises and wondering what it was that had woken me.